started young-dreamed my way out of school first,then work
years of cloud dreams of flying-out and about ,above and winging
my way across starsplashed Heavens/through skies where birds
were always beneath and stars just beyond oxygen and night.
Morning always ground me down like coffee,cupped my wings
i would wait like a rabbit for afternoon(siesta)-when waves of heat
would lift my glider up in to the thermals of flying dirigible thoughts
One thread was all it took to connect me .I belonged to the skies.
Sometimes,someone would notice.STAR CHILD! they might laugh
I would be startled dove,flapping in herds-out of my body and above myself.
I would look down at me and then-SNAP!-here i am again,telling my story
Wings imaginary yet powerfilled as balloons,with capacity to defy gravity
and to rise above buildings in time.I am still flying..